Oh, Bollocks
by Mothball-Milkshake
Summary: Harry recklessly visits Hogsmeade to drown his sorrows after a disastrous Quidditch game, and end up doing something he'll regret. H/D Preview - “M-Malfoy!” he hissed. “What the Hell are you doing in my bed?” “This isn’t your bed, it’s my bed…”
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer - This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

A/N – Previously this fic was at , but I have since gotten tired of the whole process of uploading my other fic there.

Harry trudged dejectedly towards Hogsmeade. He knew he wasn't supposed to be out, and if he got caught, he'd be in serious trouble, but at the moment, he didn't particularly care. He was rather preoccupied with Gryffindors' spectacular loss to Hufflepuff, earlier on in the night.

The score had been two hundred and ten to twenty, so not even Harry's capture of the snitch had been able to secure their victory. Harry cursed the virus that was going around, knocking people out left right and center. It had taken two of his chasers, which he'd had to replace with Ginny and Dean, and also his keeper, so Harry was forced to play Neville instead. The beaters were still on, adamant to play even though they were sick, so they weren't much use. All in all, it was a pretty pathetic match.

He saw some fellow sixth years stumbling past him, back in the direction of Hogwarts. They were Slytherins, and evidently had just finished celebrating Hufflepuff's victory.

He scowled at them, but they didn't seem to notice. They continued chatting loudly and pushed passed him, letting him continue on his way to the Hogs Head, clearly too drunk to realize who he was, or just not able to see him well in the semi-darkness.

He muttered mutinously as he pushed open the swinging door into the dingy bar, hoping against hope that there would be no Slytherins to bother him. Naturally, according to Murphy's Law, upon looking over to the bar, Harry saw several. One of which had annoyingly blonde hair and a superior drawl (even if it was slurred somewhat by the effects of whatever he'd been drinking).

Scowling again, Harry took a seat at the other side of the bar and ordered a firewhiskey.

"Oh how crass, Potter," a voice came from behind him.

Closing his eyes, Harry counted to ten, hoping that when he opened them, his rival of five and a half years would have disappeared. No such luck.

"Order one of their cocktails. A fuzzy navel, or a purple nurple, whatever the Hell it's called. Something to do with foreplay…" he murmured, looking at the bar.

"Malfoy, what are you on about?" Harry asked.

"A better drink, Potter! You can't go around drinking this crap forever…" he said, picking up the bottle of firewhiskey and examining it.

Harry snatched it back irritably. "Malfoy, don't go picking up my drinks. I don't know what you might be putting in it."

"Oh please, Potter, you actually think I'm in a coherent enough state to try and poison you tonight? You severely over-estimate me," Malfoy laughed.

Harry stared at him for a few seconds, wondering how, if he wasn't able to tell what drink he was putting things in, he could still speak like this.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, in that annoying way Harry couldn't seem to perfect.

"Staring at me Potter? How's the saying go? 'Take a picture, it'll last longer'?" he said, lightly.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry growled, the firewhiskey he had already consumed stunting his ability to come up with a good comeback.

"Ouch, Potter, that was a scathing comeback," he drawled, amused. Harry mumbled something into the bottle. Malfoy regarded him in amusement for a minute, before waving down the bartender.

"Two fuzzy navels, please," he said.

"Buying me a drink, Malfoy?" Harry asked, looking up at him darkly.

"Yes, Potter, got a problem with that?"

"And what makes you think I'll accept any drink you give me?"

"Ah, is it so hard to believe I a merely expressing my condolences for your horrible loss, and my remorse at having treated you so horribly for the past five years?" Malfoy asked, an innocent expression on his face.

"Yes."

"Hm. How about, I'm merely trying to get you drunk enough to tell me what those secret lessons you've been having with Dumbledore are all about?" he suggested.

"Now that's more believable," Harry conceded.

"Shall we drink to honesty then, Potter?" Malfoy suggested, holding out the drink he bought.

"You're not going to let up, are you?" Harry asked, staring at him in disbelief.

Malfoy shook his head pleasantly.

"Well, fine, but if I turn up dead tomorrow, just remember, there were witnesses. People will know it was you."

"I swear, there's nothing in it, Malfoy's honor," Malfoy smirked.

"Oh, now I know I should be worried…" Harry muttered, drinking the proffered glass anyway. "Hmm… this is alright, Malfoy," Harry said, signaling for another.

"Well, of course. I do know my drinks, Potter," Malfoy said, appearing affronted.

Several drinks and unintelligent arguments later, Harry had quite forgotten his enmity with Malfoy from the start of the night, and, for that matter, the last five years.

"Y'know…" he slurred. "Yer not such a ba' guy af'er all…"

Malfoy laughed drunkenly.

"C'mon, this place…boring…" Harry mumbled, getting to his feet and pulling Malfoy up after him.

As it seemed like such a logical, clever idea, the two boys decided to go cow tipping. It didn't end well.

"…How did that happen," Malfoy asked from the ground, wide eyed.

"I don' thin' tha' 'ow wan'ed to be tipped…" Harry answered, staying at the angry bull across the fence.

"Ah. That would explain it then. Where's me shoe…"

Harry collapsed in laughter to see Malfoy creeping up on the paddock the bull was in to steal his shoe back.

"Don' worry 'bout it, you can has a pair o' mine…" Harry told him, after watching the Slytherin run away for the fifth time.

"Potter, I would not be seen dead in a pair of your shoes. Now how am I – of course!" Malfoy smacked himself in the head and pulled out his wand. "Accio shoe!" he announced, and was then hit in the head again, by his own flying shoe. Dangerous things, flying shoes.

"Ow…" the blonde whined. "That's it, I'm going to bed."

"Bu' we're in Hogsmeade…" Harry told him.

"Oh, right. Well we'll just have to get back, won't we? Do you have that handy invisibility cloak of yours?"

If anybody had been roaming the corridors tonight, they would have heard what seemed to be a very drunk, very schizophrenic ghost, as the two boys kept arguing with each other.

"Gryffindor!"

"Slytherin!"

"Gryffindor!"

"Slytherin!"

"Gryffin- mmmf…"

Harry was cut off by Draco's mouth on his. Draco tasted of the alcohol he had consumed earlier, and it wasn't a particularly pleasant taste, but Harry didn't pull away.

"Dunno why I did that, seemed logical," Draco said, matter-of-factly. Harry's head buzzed with alcohol.

"Fine, Slytherin," he agreed, looking around to find that while they'd been arguing, Draco had already led him into the dungeons.

"_Clean lineage," _Draco said importantly to the wall Harry knew concealed the Slytherin common room.

"Sure, clean. I bet all you Slytherin are inbred 'nyway…" Harry told him, following Draco to a couch. "This isn't a bed."

"No, it's not. Wonderful observation skills, Potter. This is merely the place I left the book I was reading, and planned to take upstairs with me," Draco said, looking at Harry condescendingly.

Harry frowned. "Gimme my cloak back, I shoul' get 'ack to my dorm."

"Yes, Potter, you probably should," Draco mused.

"So, I nee' my cloak."

"Potter, you're holding your cloak."

"…Oh," Harry looked down to find his invisibility cloak in his hands.

"Well, you should be off, then," Draco said, casually.

"Yeah…but…"

"Yes?" Draco said, turning around.

"Well, what the Hell happened earlier?" Harry asked, referring to the kiss.

"Potter, you'll need to be more clear, I've no idea what you're on about," Draco answered, in disdain.

"Well…uh…the uh…the k-…you kis-"

"The kiss? Potter, don't read into it too much, it just seemed the best way to shut you up," he said, sniggering.

"Oh…righ' then…" Harry answered, shuffling his feet.

"You didn't like it, did you Potter?"

"Of course not! I mean…you're a boy, and tha's wrong…" he muttered.

"Oh really, wrong? So, if I were to come over there, push you back onto the couch and give you the best snog you've ever had in your life, you'd push me off, and tell me it's 'wrong', would you?" Malfoy asked, slowly stepping towards Harry.

Harry backed away until his legs bumped into the couch. "Well…uh…I dunno…I mean, you migh' be stronger than me, an' well, I'm no' really in any state to ge' you away from me…" he stuttered, as the blonde prowled ever closer, a growing smirk on his face.

"Would you like to test that theory, Potter?" Draco said, quietly. Harry pushed back against the couch and collapsed onto it. "W-well, that depen's on what-" his stuttering protests were cut off as Draco grabbed his shirt front and crushed his lips against Harry's'. Harry gasped in surprise, eyes flying open, and Draco took this as an opportunity to let his tongue explore the mouth now open to him. Harry shuddered as Draco ran his tongue across the roof of his mouth, then realized that Draco had crawled on top of him, and, well, he was starting to have a bit of an embarrassing problem.

"Malfoy…" he started, as Draco trailed his mouth along Harry's jaw and down to his neck, his tongue working wonders on Harry's sensitized skin.

"Yes, Potter?" Draco practically growled, before biting down lightly on Harry's shoulder. Harry let out a small yelp of surprise and jerked forwards, alerting Draco to the effect he was having on Harry.

"So wrong, isn't it Potter?" Draco smirked, sitting back and looking at Harry's disheveled face.

"Fuck you, Malfoy," Harry said, though it lacked any venom.

Draco grabbed Harry by the hair and pulled his head backwards. "Language, Potter," he said, before capturing Harry in a rough kiss again. This time, Harry responded. When Draco forced his tongue into Harry's mouth, Harry ran his up the underside of the foreign invader, causing Draco to jerk atop him. "Well, Potter, getting into this, are we?" Draco smirked again, keeping Harry's head pulled back with one hand as he used his mouth to its full advantage on the other boy's collarbone. With his other hand, he clumsily un-tucked Harry's shirt. Harry jumped when he felt the blonde's hand on his skin, and unwillingly pressed himself closer to the Slytherin. He groaned when Draco pulled back.

"Now, Potter, let's say we take this upstairs, hmm?" he asked, with heavy-lidded eyes. Harry could merely nod, the coherent use of his voice box somehow forgotten.

* * * * *

Harry awoke next morning with a dull throbbing in the front of his head and slowly opened his eyes, preparing for the burst of sunlight. He blinked blearily for a few moments before realizing it was mostly dark, lit only by a few candles.

_That's odd…somebody must be playing a joke…_ he thought, reaching over to his bedside table for his glasses. Thankfully, they were right where he usually put them. Slipping his glasses on, he looked at the rest of the items on the table.

_Well…that's not usually there…must be Seamus'…_ he thought in amusement, noticing the small tube. He then, finally, noticed that he was rather…well, naked.

_Dear lord, what did I do last night?! I hope there's not some poor girl running around with the wrong idea…_ his brain worked overtime, struggling to remember the night before, until he felt a stir of the covers, and realized with a jolt, that there was somebody else in the bed, beside him. With an even bigger shock, he recognized the white blonde hair and steely gray eyes, half closed though they were with sleep.

"M-Malfoy?!" he hissed. "What the Hell are you doing in my bed!?"

"This isn't your bed, it's my bed…" Draco answered, as if this was the most logical thing in the world. He then sat up and stared at Harry. "What the Hell are you doing in my bed?!"

"That's what I want to know!" Harry answered. "And…oh, Merlin, cover yourself up!" he closed his eyes noticing the sheets had fallen off Draco. His mind went at a thousand miles a minute trying to remember the events after he went into the Hogs Head.

"Dammit, Potter, what the Hell did you do to me? Ugh, I feel so dirty…" Malfoy groaned. "Get out, why are you even still here?!"

Harry stood up hastily, covering himself with the sheet.

"Don't contaminate my sheets! For Salazar's sake, I'm going to have to burn them…" he muttered.

Harry hastily picked up his trousers from the floor, thankful to find that his wand was still in the pocket. He hurriedly pulled them on, and shrugged his shirt and robes on top.

"I don't know what happened Malfoy, but I know it's all your fault," he accused, buttoning his robes.

"Not likely Potter. Stop taking so long, get the Hell out of here before somebody sees!" he ordered, shoving Harry out through his bed curtains and into the dormitory. Harry sucked in his breath, hoping nobody was awake. Thundering snores came from two beds to the right of him, and it appeared Blaise Zabini slept with his curtains open, but was still fast asleep and – oh, dear lord, did **all** the Slytherins have to sleep naked?! Averting his eyes, he picked up his invisibility cloak, relieved nobody had found it. He slipped it on before departing the dorm, closing the door as quiet as possible behind him.

Blaise snapped his eyes open. _How very…interesting…_ he mused to himself.

"It's alright, you can come out now," he told somebody hiding on the other side of his bed.

His hidden partner sighed. "Thank God, I thought he was never going to leave. Imagine what people would say if they heard about this?"

"Imagine what people would say if they heard about _this_," Blaise countered, wrapping his arms around his companion and pulling the curtains shut once more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer - This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

"Thank Merlin, Harry, where have you been!?" Hermione hissed as Harry stumbled into the Gryffindor common room.

"You look a fright, mate. We thought you'd gone into hiding after that loss against Hufflepuff last night," Ron added, looking at Harry's red-rimmed eyes and dishevelled hair.

"Something like that," he muttered evasively, thankful that the common room was almost empty, everyone having already gone down to breakfast. Ron shook his head.

"You're bloody lucky it's a Saturday. Any of the teachers would have your head if you turned up like that to their classes. What happened to you?" Ron asked, looking concerned as Harry sighed dramatically.

"I'd really rather not talk about it, Ron. I just want to go have a shower…yes, a good, long shower…" he answered, ignoring his friends curious glances and proceeding to walk up the stairs to the boys dorm, planning on scrubbing his skin until any lingering traces of Malfoy were erased.

Hermione looked after him in concern. "What do you think happened, Ron?" she asked, worried for their mutual friend.

Ron laughed. "Probably went out and got drunk, woke up this morning with some hideous bint, and doesn't ever want to think about it again," he guessed.

"Ron Weasley! How dare you talk like that!" Hermione punched him on the arm for his comment.

"Ow! Hermione! I was only joking! Honestly…violent woman, you are…" he muttered, rubbing his arm where she had hit him. Hermione frowned at him, although no more was said on the subject.

* * * * *

"Morning Harry!" Seamus greeted cheerfully as they reached their house table. Dean waved, but didn't say anything with his mouth full of toast.

Harry nodded tiredly at the both of them as he sat down, pulling a pitcher of water towards himself.

"So, where were you last night? Had a hot date?" Seamus asked, leaning forward and winking. "I know I did…" he supplied unnecessarily, glancing in the direction of the Ravenclaw table. Susan Bones waved back at him cheerfully.

"Seamus! No way, you and Susan?" Ron asked, completely forgetting about Harry's mysterious disappearance.

Seamus tapped his nose and grinned, going back to his pancakes.

Dean looked at his best friend. "You are a complete man whore, you know that, right?" he asked shrewdly.

Seamus replied merely by giving a thumbs up, and shovelling more food into his mouth.

"Honestly, if you keep eating like that you're going to be sick," Hermione reprimanded, having only just joined them.

"It's never happened before, has it?" Ron asked, whilst reaching for some porridge.

Hermione shook her head in disgust.

"Speaking of things that have never happened before…" Dean spoke up, directing his gaze to the doors leading out into the entrance hall. Everybody turned in their seats to get a good look at what he was talking about.

"Since when has Malfoy had that much of an entourage?" Hermione wondered, and, indeed, she was right. The Blonde Slytherin was hardly visible in the crowd that he had come in with, although he could just be seen in the middle, feigning nonchalance as Crabbe and Goyle stopped any of the twittering girls from touching their leader. Evidently, something must have happened in order to make him ignore his usual rules, not that any of the Gryffindor's knew the specifics of the Slytherin house etiquette.

"I wondered why their house table looked so empty this morning. They must have been choreographing this grand entrance," Dean added as Malfoy and his groupies swanned over to the Slytherin table.

Harry shook his head, determined to forget the previous night.

"Come on. Let's head back to the common room. I have homework to do," he spoke up, ignoring the way Hermione looked at him as he stood up.

Ron groaned. "Seriously? You're going to homework on a Saturday…uh…sure…" he trailed off at Hermione's glare, following the two back to their house.

* * * * *

Draco watched the Golden Trio exit the hall with a sense of satisfaction, and pulled a giggling Daphne Greengrass into his lap as he took his place at the Slytherin table. Overcompensating? Quite possibly, but anybody who suggested this notion to him would find their head impaled upon something sharp and undesirable, something the Slytherin Prince would make sure of.

Laughing loudly at some vulgar joke Blaise Zabini made, he reached for the syrup, attempting not to dwell on thoughts of that morning, although they seemed determined to creep into his mind.

Draco resisted the urge to slump face forward into his oatmeal as he remembered his rather embarrassing and close encounter with a bull last night, among other things. What on Earth had possessed him in order to make him want to kiss Potter, of all people? Utterly ridiculous - he decided firmly that he was not going to be drinking again any time soon.

* * * * *

"Another round!" Nott shouted, toasting to Millicent Bulstrode's birthday. Draco happily held out his glass to accept the brandy being poured out. So much for his resolve – that kind of thing was really more for Hufflepuff's, anyway.

He cast a superior look over his drunken housemates, taking pleasure in the fact that he retained his cool demeanour.

"Blaise, I'm going to go for a walk," he decided, pushing himself out of his favourite armchair as the olive-skinned boy nodded in acknowledgement.

Making his way through the party debris and fellow Slytherin's was very simple, deciding on a direction to go once he had entered the hallway, was not. Eventually settling on the idea that moving straight forward would require much less thought process than if he had to turn in either direction, that was the way he went.

Sobering up slightly as he continued on through the dank corridors of the dungeons, he fancied a snack, and began proceeding to the kitchen. As he neared the entrance, he heard two voices arguing in raised whispers. Instantly, understanding went over him.

"Potter. Take off the cloak. It doesn't stop people from hearing you, you dolt," he drawled, smirking as the whispering instantly stopped.

"Malfoy?" came the disembodied voice, before Potter pulled the cloak off to reveal himself and a very dishevelled, unhappy looking Weasley.

"Yes, Potter. I would think that after 6 years of having to attend the same school together, you would be now be able to put my name to my face," he answered, watching as Potter scowled.

"Why are you out of bed? It's past curfew," he muttered, obviously forgetting that the Weasel and himself were breaking the exact same rule.

"Not of consequence. Pray tell what you and Weasley here were arguing about before I stumbled upon your little ronde vu," Draco was just attempting to provoke a response, fitting perfectly into the same role that he and Potter had always held.

This time it was the Weasel glaring at him.

"That's none of your business, Malfoy. Harry, I'm going back to bed. I won't wait up," he shot back. Draco noticed with some interest the merest hint of a wince on Potter's part as the redhead walked away.

"Dear me, it looks as though you've had a lover's tiff. Something on his mind, Potter?" Draco taunted, satisfied when Potter glared at him, his glasses glinting dangerously.

"You know damn well that it's your fault, Malfoy," he shot back, much to Draco's honest incredulity.

"What?" he asked, cursing inwardly at such a lame response. Potter laughed derisively.

"Come on, you mean your friends don't ask you where you've been if you don't return at night?" Draco shook his head in wonderment at the stupidity of Gryffindor's, although now it was Harry's turn to be incredulous.

"Well…even if they don't, it's all your fault I was out last night. If you hadn't convinced me to drink-"

"Convinced you?" Draco cut him off. "I don't recall you needing much convincing. Too shattered by your pathetic loss against the Hufflepoofs, weren't you?" Draco sneered.

"Don't call them that, their house is worth at least three times as much as yours is." Potter ground out. Draco let out a bark of laughter.

"Hardly. What does that make you then? Ten times our superior? At least my housemates know how to have fun," he sneered, regretting ever leaving the party.

"Is that the reason you're out wandering the halls by yourself, Malfoy? Too much of a buzz-kill to even entertain your fellow snakes?" Potter asked airily.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What would you know about entertaining people? I've seen you, all you seem to do lately is sit around and bitch about my stupid, worthless second-cousin's de-" his sentence was cut off by Potter's fist as it collided with his jaw, and he reeled backwards.

"Don't you dare even mention Sirius," Potter growled, looking positively dangerous as he advanced towards Draco. Draco scrambled backward on the floor, completely undignified, and to his horror, felt something stirring low in his stomach.

"Potter, I don't think this is such a good idea…" he started, only to be cut off again as Potter dragged him up and slammed him backwards into a wall.

"Of course, it's all well and good when you have your cronies doing the fighting for you – can't even stand up for yourself, Malfoy? Didn't daddy ever teach his precious son how to defend himself?" Potter taunted, raising an eyebrow.

"How dare you insult my father," Draco gritted his teeth, preparing to launch an attack of his own. "At least I actually have a father." He pulled his arm forwards as hard as he could from his awkward position against the wall, catching Potter in the stomach. He took the opportunity to knee him in the jaw once he doubled over, sending him reeling back.

"Is this self defence enough, Golden Boy?" he sneered, completely unprepared as Potter launched himself forward, catching Draco in the knees and sending them both crashing to the ground.

"Of course, barbaric Muggle fighting is all I can expect from somebody raised by them- it's practically animal, you know that, Potter?" Draco bit out before his head slammed backwards into the ground as Potter landed on top of him. Stars swam before his vision, and it took all his energy not to simply black out. Instead, he managed to flip himself, pinning the other boy to the ground with his knees.

"What now, Malfoy?" Potter asked, obviously tired from the physical activity. Draco took one look at his flushed, angry face, at his chest heaving with exertion, and before he knew it, was performing a repeat of last night.

After a few seconds, he pulled back, horrified with himself, and fully intending to turn tail and flee back to his dorm, before Potter grabbed him around the back of the neck and pulled him back down.

* * * * *

This time Harry was woken by sunlight streaming in through the window, although he had the unwelcome sensation of stone beneath his back. His naked back.

Bloody Hell.

"You know Potter, perhaps you should buy me dinner next time," Malfoy said sarcastically as Harry opened his eyes to find the blonde already awake and sitting on a nearby desk.

He promptly pressed his hands over his eyes and fell backwards with a groan.


End file.
